


Day 4763: Resolution

by suibian (leen_go)



Category: Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation, Mo Dao Zu Shi, The Founder of Diabolism, 魔道祖师 - 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù
Genre: Angst, Canon, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, except maybe without the comfort, nightless city
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-14 18:39:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17513858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leen_go/pseuds/suibian
Summary: “There is nothing to explain. This is what it appears."An account of what happens after Wei Wuxian loses control at the Nightless CIty





	Day 4763: Resolution

**Author's Note:**

> So... this was not really intended to be a bday gift for LWJ because who gifts angst for a birthday, but it just so happened that this is when I finished it. I'M SORRY.  
> It's been a really long time since I wrote something so please excuse the shoddiness! (I can't believe my first entry into mdzs ficdom is angst but that's me I guess :|)

The last of the fierce corpses falls by his sword and Lan Wanji stumbles, feeling his own spiritual energy wane. His pale robes have long since been stained the blackened red of rotten blood, the putrid scent of decay that surrounds him no longer a stranger. His hair falls around his shoulders, its usual pristine sheen having given way to tangles and clumps of blood hours ago. The only item in his possession not drenched in the blood of the undead was the white ribbon around his head, spotless and the only thing that could identify him as the typically upstanding second young master of the Lan Sect nowhere in sight.

Bichen is thrust unceremoniously into the dirt, a crutch for its master who struggles to catch his breath as he searches the landscape for _him._

Amidst the mass graveyard that the Nightless City has become, he finally finds what he is looking for.

Wei Wuxian, surrounded by wisps of green flames and black energy, stands at the top of the hill, Chenqing at his lips but its tune fading to nothing. His arms fall to his side, glaring down at the remains of the chaos he’s created as his lips curl into a smile that doesn’t quite touch his narrowed eyes, still glowing crimson with resentful energy.

The bodies of cultivators, fierce corpses, and fierce corpses that were once cultivators all lay at his feet, motionless. His robes are torn in several places, most noticeably at his arm, the cloth hanging loosely and hiding the hand that holds onto Chenqing. Lan Wangji frowns, noting the drops of blood that drip from the flute.

“Wei Ying…” The words slip out of Lan Wangji breathlessly and even he’s not sure if he said them out loud.

The two have always had a complicated relationship; they can’t be called enemies but they aren’t exactly friends either. In their recent encounters, despite Lan Wangji’s best efforts, the two had somehow always left on sour terms. So when Wei Wuxian turns to him at the sound of his name, Lan Wangji expects disgust or hate but the expression he receives is worse: indifference.

With a limp, Wei Wuxian turns away and starts walking, a slight back-and-forth sway in his step as he struggles to stay upright, the wisps of black surrounding him slowly fading into nothingness.

It takes Lan Wangji a moment to get over the shock of being ignored completely, and when he does, his feet hurry towards Wei Wuxian, who trips over a lifeless body. Lan Wangji reaches him just in time, dropping Bichen to the ground so he can catch the other properly in his arms.  “Wei Ying, that’s enough,” he whispers softly, brow furrowing as his grip tightens, “It’s over.”

Wei Wuxian groans, taking a moment to recover from his stumble and when he does, his eyes flash dangerously. He scrambles to pull away, pushing weakly against Lan Wangji’s chest before the strength leaves him completely and he falls to his knees, still tightly held in that taller man’s arms.

“Wei Ying, come back to Gusu with me,” Lan Wangji says for what feels like the fiftieth time since the Sunshot campaign. _‘Let me protect you,’_ he wants to add but doesn’t, the words caught in his throat as the black mist starts to gather thickly around Wei Wuxian once more.

“Go back to Gusu?”

The laugh that follows sends chills down his back and he shivers involuntarily, realising that he shouldn’t have said anything at all. A stream of red spills over Wei Wuxian’s lips, painting his chin and neck a ghastly crimson, but despite the display of weakness, the man seems invigorated instead. He sends a fresh wave of resentful energy outwards, forcing Lan Wangji to loosen his grip as he is forcefully pushed backward. Wiping the back of his hand across his dry lips, Wei Wuxian’s eyes narrow into a glare once more.

“ _Scram,_ ” he hisses, taking deliberate steps forward and pushing Lan Wangji out of his path.

The muscles in his jaw clench painfully as he recalls his previous attempts to have Wei Wuxian come back to the Cloud Recesses with him. He regrets never having pushed harder, believing that it was only proper of him to respect the other’s wishes. He wanted to believe Wei Wuxian when he said that he had everything under control but this destruction, this madness, blatant disregard to human life - this is not the Wei Wuxian that Lan Wangji knows.  

If he agrees to leave Wei Wuxian alone again, the next time they cross paths, would the Wei Wuxian he loves still exist?

Determined to never have to find the answer, he bends to pick up Bichen and sheathes it before he starts after Wei Wuxian without another word.

“Leave me alone!” Wei Wuxian growls as he continues to limp away, not even bothering to turn around.

Lan Wangji doesn’t reply, only blinking away the exhaustion that weighs heavily on his eyelids, watching the man in front of him sway back and forth, each uneven step threatening to be his last before he finally stumbles, legs giving out as he falls to his knees. Lan Wangji is knelt at his side in a heartbeat, catching the unconscious man just before his body hits the ground.

“Wei Ying!” he calls, tapping his fingers gently against the man’s cheek, to no response. ‘ _Wake up! Wake up and yell at me! Wake up and push me away, just open your eyes!’_

No matter how many times he calls out, Wei Wuxian is unresponsive, his eyelids closed and his breathing shallow. Lan Wangji presses his ear to the other’s chest, worry stitching his eyebrows together as he notes how weak the pulse is, how there seems to be no spiritual energy emanating from the limp body at all. A golden core was like a heart; no matter how weak, it should still beat; just how hard had Wei Wuxian pushed himself to have drained his spiritual energy this much?

Suddenly feeling watched, Bichen unsheathes as its master draws Wei Wuxian into his arms, adopting a defensive stance against whoever has dared to sneak up on him.

“Wangji?”

It takes a second before he realises that it’s his brother that’s calling to him, a complicated expression of confusion and concern written all over his features. Recognizing no ill-intent from his brother, Lan Wangji turns his attention back to the limp body in his arms, Bichen dropping harmlessly to the ground.

He has to leave this place, take Wei Wuxian and leave this place, find somewhere safe.

“Wangji…” Lan Xichen’s voice is soft but full of warning and it stabs his younger brother squarely in the chest. ‘ _Let him go_ ,’ he seems to say.

“I can’t,” Lan Wangji whispers quietly, his hold tightening around the limp body in his arms, “I _won’t_.”

Something flickers across Lan Xichen’s widened eyes but Lan Wangji doesn’t waste any time trying to decipher it; cultivators in white, gold, purple and black were slowly coming to, with quiet rustling all around him as they prepared for another round, a round that Lan Wangji knows they will win if Wei Wuxian stays here in this vulnerable state. He musters what energy he has remaining and, with one arm supporting Wei Wuxian’s back and the other under the knees, he gets to his feet. He says a silent apology to the other half of the Twin Jades of Gusu in his heart as he turns away, kicking up Bichen and mounting it. Without a second glance backwards, he takes to the air, leaving behind a brother who yells after him with desperation thick on his voice.

It’s several hours before Bichen finally slows, its master’s spititual energy reaching his limit having had no rest since leaving the nightless city. They descend into dense forest, with Lan Wangji doing his best to keep the sharp branches from Wei Wuxian as Bichen lowers the duo, shuddering a last time before it clatters to the ground, powerless.

Lan Wangji’s breath is short and it’s an effort to remain upright on a single knee; he’s running with only a single goal, to protect the man in his arms. He props the limp body against himself, freeing a hand to cup around Wei Wuxian’s cheek, “Wei Ying!” he calls softly as though it might yield a different response from the last fifty times he’s said it. He sighs and looks up around them to gather his bearings. With the sun rising once more, the sky is painted a red-orange, casting long shadows around them. He hears the quiet _whoosh_ of flying swords accompanied by orders to search the area so he hurries quickly into the cover of the nearest tree, kicking dirt over Bichen to hide its glow. A moment later, he sees the silhouettes of several figures overhead, cultivators in all shades together in their search for their common enemy. Lan Wangji’s hold around Wei Wuxian tightens as his jaw clenches, ‘ _I have to hide Wei Ying somewhere safe_.’

When the cultivators are out of sight, Lan Wangji finally allows himself to breathe. He retrieves Bichen from the dirt and, sheathing it, lifts Wei Wuxian back into his arms and sets off on foot.

By the time he finds his way into a cave carved into the side of the mountain, Lan Wangji barely has enough strength to stand. He lays Wei Wuxian down against the cold ground and collapses beside him, taking several deep breaths that echo in the empty cave. He doesn’t break for long though, immediately setting about properly assessing the damage. He sheds his outer robe, ripping it in the parts that aren’t already covered in dried blood to wipe at Wei Wuxian’s face clean. He moves swiftly to checked the rest of his body, satisfied when he only finds minor bruising across the torso. The only injury that requires his immediate attention is a gash along the entire length of Wei Wuxian’s arm, the sleeves drenched and sticking to the skin. The wound isn’t a clean cut by any means, and he wonders what weapon could have caused it. When a stack of blank talismans fall from Wei Wuxian’s robes though, he finally recognises the reckless markings made by teeth and fingernails.

How desperate had Wei Wuxian been to use his own blood in place of cinnabar? Has he been so corrupted by his demonic cultivation that he no longer feels pain?

He glances up to find Wei Wuxian’s eyebrows stitched together and a grimace on his features, whatever nightmare he is having at the moment straining the muscles in his jaw.

‘ _No_ ,’ Lan Wangji decides, recalling Wei Wuxian’s broken expression as he cradled his _shijie_ in his arms, ‘ _If anything, it is because he feels_ too much _pain.’_

With a sigh, his attention returns to finding a clean spot on his robes, and when he can’t, he reaches up instead to undo the ribbon around his head. Without hesitation, he wraps the cloth along the length of the injury diligently, tying the ends with care before setting the arm carefully across its owner’s chest. He frowns at the deep crimson that immediately stains the cloth, too dark to be ignored; even if he manages to staunch the flow, it will mean nothing if he doesn’t treat the blood infection. Wei Wuxian still (alarming) has not recovered any spiritual energy despite having rested for hours now and Lan Wangji worries that with this high a level of corruption, Wei Wuxian’s Golden Core may be damaged beyond repair - he cannot depend on Wei Wuxian’s cultivation of help the healing process and Lan Wangji hasn’t recovered enough of his own spiritual energy to pass it on.

When a search reveals nothing of use on either of their bodies, Lan Wangji sighs heavily, knowing that he will have to leave the safety of the cave to find the herbs he needs.

He will have to leave Wei Wuxian.

And if he doesn’t, the man he loves will die.

With a heavy heart, he kneels beside the unconscious man, now shivering slightly against the cold rock floor. Hesitantly, he reaches out, closing his fingers around the other’s and swallows hard at how close to freezing it feels. He pulls a fire talisman from his sleeve but doesn’t light it, knowing that the flame can only last a brief moment with his limited energy. Instead, he draws both hands into his own and brings them to his lips to blow on them lightly, his warm breath reflecting back against his face. ‘ _This isn’t enough_ ,’ he worries, brow furrowing. He lets himself hold on a moment longer before he finally lets go, reaching for what’s left of his soiled outer robes and throwing it over the unconscious man in hopes of preserving what remains of Wei Wuxian’s body heat.

He has to go _now_.

His moves to wipe at a bead of sweat that has formed on the other’s forehead, his touch lingering before he gives in, leaning down and pressing his lips softly against Wei Wuxian’s forehead, “I’ll be back soon, Wei Ying,” he promises in a low whisper, even though he knows the other can’t hear him. “Hang on just a little longer.”

When he returns nearly an hour later with herbs and firewood in his arms, Lan Wangji finds the cave exactly as he left it, cold and silent save for the uneven breathing of its only other occupant. He sets about positioning the wood into a proper array, glancing behind him frequently, as though afraid the man near death might suddenly spring awake and run away.

“Wei Ying, don’t die,” he says out loud, accompanied by the soft crackle of his fire talisman setting the pile of twigs ablaze with a warm glow as he finally takes a seat against the jagged wall of the cave. “There’s still so much I haven’t told you.”

He does his best to ground the herbs he’s picked, carefully pulling Wei Wuxian towards himself so that the other’s head rests in his lap before he starts to undo the binding around the infected arm, the once white ribbon now nearly black. The bleeding has slowed, but he is no less worried, applying the herbs to affected area with a clenched jaw.

Lan Wangji only stops to breathe when he is done the application but with his head ribbon soiled like everything else, all he can do is press the full leaves he has left over the cut, holding them in place with his own hand. With a soft chuckle even unexpected from himself, he shakes his head and drops it into his free hand, “Wei Ying, you win”

How many attempts has it been now that the troublesome Wei Wuxian has tried to grab the ribbon? And here, Lan Wangji has willingly taken it off, soiled the symbol of his self-regulation with the dirty blood of an outsider - of a _man_ , no less. A man that has cultivated the heretic path, a man who has killed countless times, including those from his own home, a man who has made enemies with every cultivation clan.

His only regret is that he hadn’t done it sooner.

He rests his head back against the hard wall with a soft thump that echoes in the cave and sighs. Wei Wuxian has always been annoying, breaking any rules he disagrees with, making a point of interfering when he hasn’t been asked to, and worst of all, shaking off his own pains in an effort to comfort others. Lan Wangji became intimately familiar with this idiocy in the Xuanwu cave, as he witnessed Wei Wuxian, single-handedly taking on the monster as he urged everyone else to escape. What sort of fool didn’t think about saving himself above others? Lan Wangji could not simply stand by and idly watch the idiot sacrifice himself. But of all the ridiculous things Wei Wuxian has done, the worst is the silence he forces Lan Wangji to endure right now.

Wei Wuxian has always been a talker, always filling their encounters with frivolous and nonsensical chit-chat; the lack of it now is unbearable, an ache finding a home in his chest. “Wei Ying,” he starts, grimacing at how his lonely voice echoes back at him.

Lan Wangji has never been uncomfortable with silence, but the quiet now was only a loud reminder of Wei Wuxian’s precarious condition, and Lan Wangji suddenly feels the need to fill the quiet with his own voice. “Do you remember our first hunt together? It was for water ghouls. Do you remember?” he repeats.

The words flow easier than he expects as he reminisces alone, his fingers lazily threading through Wei Wuxian’s hair, catching on the red ribbon that has come loose, barely holding together. He unties the ribbon and presses out the wrinkles in it before gathering a handful of hair and retying the red strip of cloth back in place, frowning slightly when a single strand just above the forehead refuses to submit.

He feels his spiritual energy recover halfway through his retelling of the incidents at Mount Muxi but feels no such recovery in the body in his lap. He swallows hard with worry and immediately starts to pass along the energy he has recovered. It takes almost an hour but the pulse under his fingertips eases and Wei Wuxian’s breathing finally settles into an even rhythm for the first time since Lan Wangji carried him away from the Nightless City. It feels like an eternity ago that the second Jade of Gusu has felt relief, but he doesn’t dare rest now, not when he’s so close to having him back.  

“Wei Ying?” his voice is hopeful as he cradles the man’s face in his hand, eager for any response he can get. “Wei Ying, come back to me.”

Eyes pressed tightly closed for a moment before opening, Wei Wuxian lets out a long groan as he brings his injured arm up to inspect. “What…?”

Lan Wangji lets out a sigh of relief, his presence alerting the man in his lap, who sits up in alarm. “Lan Zhan?!” he all but shouts, attempting to back away only to have Lan Wangji hold him in place with a strong hand.

“Why can’t you just _leave me alone_?” he growls, glaring at the hand around his wrist.

Lan Wangji hesitates but he loosens his grip enough for the other to pull back. “Wei Ying… do you really not know? About you… I…,” he pauses to stare squarely at Wei Wuxian, urging the lump in his throat to go away with little success, “I have never felt about anyone the way I feel about you.”

The reaction he gets is a glassy expression as Wei Wuxian falls forward again and Lan Wangji nearly misses the catch, “Wei Ying!”

“Let _go_ ,” Wei Wuxian manages as he shifts in and out of consciousness, still trying to shuffle away from his captor.

“You need to rest, you’re still hurt,” Lan Wangji implores, offering his hand to support the other only to have it slapped away.

“Get lost,” Wei Wuxian growls as he gets to his feet clumsily, his eyes narrowing as a dangerous red tinge makes its way into his irises.

“Wei Ying, _please_. Let me help you.”

Before he can get a reply though, he hears someone else’s voice calling his own name and he spins around to find his brother standing at the entrance to the cave, with several seniors from Gusu on his heels. From the corner of his eye, he sees Wei Wuxian stumble again and he immediately moves to catch him, positioning himself firmly between _him_ and _them_.

“Lan Wangji,” his uncle’s voice booms, “What is the meaning of this?”

The body in his arms falls limp once more and Lan Wangji’s grip tightens, mind made up, “There is nothing to explain. This is what it appears,” he says resolutely, holding his gaze solid against his uncle’s.

A flash of anger passes through Lan Qiren’s expression and he signals those behind him forward, “Lan Wangji. I’ll only say this once: move aside.”

His uncle has always been strict and unyielding, but this is one time that Lan Wangji cannot abide. He steels his gaze, fingers closing tightly around Bichen’s handle, now vibrating slightly with its owner’s recovered spiritual energy.

“No.”

In a heartbeat, the assault begins and Lan Wangji finds himself restrained despite his best efforts, arms pulled behind him and down on his knees, wet eyes wide as he watches Wei Ying’s lifeless body taken away by his elders.

“Wei Ying!” he screams a hundredth time, voice hoarse already as he stares at the streaks of red flowing freely from Wei Wuxian.

He had failed.

“ _Wei Ying!”_

***

Lan Wangji’s eyes fly open, breathing coming out short as he struggles a moment to gather his bearings, finally realising he’s back in his _jingshi_. He thought he’d long dispelled the intrusive dreams from a decade ago but sometimes, wants do not align with reality. His heart pounds in his chest, fast and uneven, and he brings his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose as he tries to level his breathing, the whispers of the nightmare still tugging at his heart.

He opens his eyes to his ceiling, painted with the calm shadows of the tree outside the _jinshi_ , blowing gently in the wind. He watches them for a bit, listening to the leaves, rustling quietly in the brisk night wind before he finally drops his hand back to his side, alarmed when it doesn’t hit the hard surface of his bed.

Frowning, he looks down towards his arm and almost forgets to breathe when he finds a man lying on his chest, a line of uncontrolled spittle flowing from his lips and staining the pristine cloth of Lan Wangji’s robes.

The events at Dafan Mountain suddenly come crashing back to mind and the pounding in his chest resumes. Still in disbelief of his own good fortune, he reaches out, pulling back with alarm when his calloused fingers thread through solid strands of hair - this isn’t another one of the fantasies that his mind liked to conjure to trick him.

Indeed, this _Mo Xuanyu_ did not look remotely like Wei Wuxian, but the ridiculous words that fell from his lips when they first met, and the mischievous half smile that is currently frozen on his lips is reminiscent of those days before Wei Wuxian became the Yiling Patriarch, running around Gusu as though the rules didn’t apply to him.

His hand hovers for a long moment before he allows himself to relax, even if it’s just for a moment, and his palm rests against the very real head of a softly snoring Wei Wuxian. His breath catches in his throat and he has to remind himself that he isn’t dreaming.

His arrival at Dafan Mountain was supposed to be just one of hundreds if not thousands of his instances of ‘being wherever the choas is’, and his arrival at the Dafan Mountain night hunt had merely been to supervise the Lan disciples, so his shock was unparalleled when those precious notes echoed in his ear, driving him to lose his senses long enough to clash weapons with the Jiang Sect leader. While there was respect between the two cultivators, Lan Wangji and Jiang Cheng have never been close, their only dealings were of official business when the later came to the Cloud Recesses to discuss politics with Lan Wangji’s older brother. Even when they were young, any interactions were always through _him_.

When Wei Wuxian died, the Jiang Sect leader was not convinced, determined to waste his time trying to prove that the Yiling Patriarch was still alive, hiding behind the face of someone else. Lan Wangji knew it was an impossible task; the Wei Wuxian he knew and loved would never take a life for personal gain, even if offered willingly. Instead, Lan Wangji mourned deeply and daily, playing Inquiry until his fingers bled. The strings of Wangji were stained red with his desperation, and he hoped desperately that Wei Wuxian would reply, even if only for a few short words of conversation - he would’ve been happy if Wei Wuxian responded only once, just to tell Lan Wangji to stop harassing his soul and let him rest in peace.

But he didn’t, and he most certainly is not resting in peace. How did he come back though? And what method did he use that could counteract the effects of Zidian?

Lang Wangji realises he doesn’t care, even if the means may be nefarious; his only concern is that _he’s_ returned.

And now he is granted a second chance to protect him.

His hand starts to reach past Wei Wuxian’s neck, eager to determine the extent of damage Zidian has caused. He stops though, a single word echoing in his ear: ‘Scram’. His hand hovers and he has to swallow the lump that has formed in his throat.

Wei Wuxian may have returned in someone else’s body but he is still Wei Wuxian, proud and unaccepting of Lan Wangji’s feelings. The carefree adopted son of the Junmeng Jiang sect made it no secret when he was alive his love toward beautiful women and as a genius of cultivation, he could have any woman he so desired. What right does Lan Wangji have?

None. Lan Wangji has absolutely no right, that much ss clear to him.

So why does he desire to steal Wei Wuxian away and hide him, protect him from all those who would surely come to take his head if they know the Yiling Patriarch has returned?

The scars on his back tingle, cautioning him against what he is about to do, reminding him of the decades of teachings his uncle has spent on him, but Lan Wangji ignores them; he’s waited long enough.

Four thousand, seven hundred and sixty-three days to be exact.

 _‘Sorry, uncle, I shall repent, but please give me this one moment’_ he apologizes silently as he wraps his arms to wrap around the smaller’s waist tightly, chest burning with desire as he brings the other into a tight embrace. He burrows his nose into the other’s hair, and for a moment, he can almost smell the Emperor’s Smile that always seemed to follow Wei Wuxian when they studied together in the Cloud Recesses.

It’s a long beat before he finally pulls away, shifting so that he can lay Wei Wuxian properly on his back before he slides off the bed and onto his feet. His hand pulls out from the other’s waist only to reach out to brush aside the strands of hair that have fallen across Wei Wuxian’s face. His fingers linger against the cool skin and he’s reluctant to pull away, tracing the line of his jaw before his thumb rests gently against Wei Wuxian’s lips.

Almost instinctively, he bends over to press his lips to the other’s but his conscience stops him as he’s an inch away. He can feel his warm breath rebounding off Wei Wuxian and he clenches his jaw painfully; hasn’t he already stolen enough? It’s time he thinks of Wei Wuxian’s feelings for once.

With a sigh, he pulls away and positions Wei Wuxian into a proper sleeping position on the bed, propping the pillow under the head. He reaches for Wei Wuxian’s left arm, flung a little haphazardly to the side and as he closes his fingers gently around the wrist with the intention of placing it properly at Wei Wuxian’s side, the sleeve slips down, making Lan Wangji pause as he stares at the smooth exposed pale skin.

He knows that the body of Mo Xuanyu, while now containing the soul of Lan Wangji’s most precious person, cannot share the same scars as Wei Wuxian. He wonders idly how long it’s been since Wei Wuxian has returned.

Has he been alone this whole time? Has he eaten well? Has he drank well? Has he met up with anyone else in his past life?

Has he missed Lan Wangji as Lan Wangji has missed him?

He knows the answer to that last question, but he can’t help but smile as he recalls the moment Wei Wuxian, under the guise of Mo Xuanyu made the comment about preferring Lan Wangji.

He had brought Wei Wuxian back to the Cloud Recesses only so that he would not be imprisoned by Jiang Cheng and despite the joy he felt at discovering Wei Wuxian has returned, Lan Wangji promised himself that he would respect the latter’s rejection from his past life. He resolved to be nothing less than proper, despite Wei Wuxian’s insistence on being ridiculous, most likely an attempt to maintain his facade as Mo Xuanyu. He will never leave this man’s side again and he will protect him as he could not before, no matter the cost; he can’t lose him again.

Even so, he didn’t account for Wei Wuxian sneaking into his room and then climbing atop him in his bed with what Lan Wangji could only assume to be another attempt to get kicked out. With Wei Wuxian a hair’s width away from him, Lan Wangji couldn’t help but break his own resolution, less than a day after he made it.

“You’re making this very difficult, Wei Ying,” he whispers, swallowing against the lump that has formed in his throat. How much longer does this man intend to test his moral compass? With a defeated sigh, he pulls the blanket over Wei Wuxian, finally releasing the paralysis spell before he turns to leave the room, closing the doors softly behind him before heading for the ancestral hall for his punishment.

 


End file.
